Mysterious Nocturnal Activities
by GoodShipSherlollipop
Summary: Molly has noticed that Shetlock has been getting out of bed in the middle of the night and only returning hours later. She is deternined to discover what her husband is up to. The answer is not what she expected. No vampires or fictional creatures. This may not be likely, but it is at least possible! Sherlolly one-shot.


Molly awoke in the middle of the night, feeling cold. She was used to being warm, snuggled close to Sherlock every night.

Turning her head to look at Sherlock's side of the bed, her suspicions were confirmed. He was not there. The pathologist blinked a few times blearily, finally focussing on the digital display of the clock radio on her husband's nightstand. 5AM.

She mentally counted how many days this had now happened. Yes, this was the fifth night in a row he had slipped out of the bed in the middle of the night, only to return a few hours later, some time before they were due to get up.

With the weekend and then three later shifts at the hospital, there had been no need to get out of bed before nine in the morning, so she supposed that at least was a good thing.

The first couple nights, Molly had awoken briefly when she felt the detective stir, then had gone back to sleep. The previous two bights she had awoken, found him gone, stayed awake for a few minutes and then returned to sleep. Perhaps he was just having trouble sleeping? It did happen when he was busy with a case, although to her knowledge he was currently between cases.

This time, however, the pathologist had had enough. She had to know what he was doing in the wee hours of the morning, whether it was tapping away on his laptop or something else. One thing she had noticed, for the past few days Sherlock had been getting progressively moodier.

It made no sense, Christmas was only a few weeks away and Sherlock was looking forward to it for the first time since he'd been a child. What could be making him so morose?

Molly slipped out of bed and quietly opened the door of their bedroom. As she made her way along the hall towards the kitchen, she could hear muted sounds coming from the sitting room and a sudden exclamation from Sherlock.

"Damn Aussies!"

What the...? As far as Molly knew, Sherlock had never worked on a case involving Australians, and it was unlike him to be so voluble in expressing displeasure, unless Mycroft was egging him on. Even though the relationship between the brothers had improved immensely since the events at Sherrinford several months earlier, the older Holmes persisted in saying he was still Sherlock's intellectual superior.

Molly crept further down the hall, then into the kitchen, where she had a view of Sherlock at last. He was sitting on the sofa with his arms crossed on his chest and looking decidedly annoyed.

"Sherlock?" Then she noticed her husband was watching the television, staring at it intently, in fact, until she uttered his name and he turned towards her.

"Oh, hello, love," he said, looking a little uncomfortable. "What are you doing out of bed at this time of night?"

"I should be asking you the sane thing," said the pathologist dryly. For the first time she glanced towards the television screen and opened her mouth in surprise.

Her husband was watching of all things, cricket? And in the dead of night too?

"You're watching a sport? And it's cricket?"

"Don't tell Mycroft. He'd never let me live it down."

Molly sat beside the sleuth and peered at him curiously. "Why didn't you ever tell me you were a cricket fan?"

Sherlock shrugged. "It never came up. Besides, consulting detectives do not watch frivolous sporting entertainment."

The pathologist laughed. "Who says they don't? You're the world's only consulting detective. You get to make your own rules."

"But it doesn't fit with my 'famous detective' image."

"Who cares what people think, you ridiculous man," scoffed Molly, kissing his cheek.

"I suppose I am ridiculous, being all secretive about it. It's my dad's fault you know. He made me go out for the cricket tem when I was in high school. I wasn't a half-bad batsman either. I was pretty good at deducing what kind of ball was coming at me by the way the bowlers gripped the ball. "

Molly marvelled at that. It made sense that Sherlock could use his deductive skills in areas other than crime, but she had never thought about him using them when it came to playing a sport.

"So why would you be ashamed to tell Mycroft you like watching cricket?" asked the pathologist curiously.

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow at her. "Have you even met my brother? He can't stand any form of entertainment, well, except for old black-and-white movies, as I discovered a few months ago. Didn't I tell you how he begged me to take over for him when he took our parents to see 'Les Miz'? And doesn't he always get us to go places with them whenever they are in town these days? My brother hates all forms of entertainment, sporting most of all."

"Well, that is quite a shame then. Everyone heeds time to just relax."

"So you aren't mad at me for leaving you to watch cricket in the middle of the night?"

"If you'd told me about it, I would have watched with you. My dad took me to a couple of test matches when I was a girl. He loved cricket. That's another thing he would have liked about you, being a cricket fan."

Molly looked at the television screen and then back at her husband. "I assume England is playing against Australia, judging from your "damn Aussies" comment I heard just before I cane in."

"Yes. It's the second Ashes Test, being played in Adelaide. It's the last day and our team has been just bloody awful. We're going to be down 0- 2 in the series after this. In addition, for the first time it's a day/night test match, so the time difference is even worse than usual."

"I'm going to get q blanket and we can watch it together, okay?"

"Not bloody worth watching at this point. A couple more wickets and we're done."

"Well then, look at the bright side, we'll get back to bed sooner."

Molly fetched a blanket and put it over herself and her husband on the sofa. She snuggled against him and watched while the English team crashed and burned its way to another defeat.

"Oh well, that's that," said Sherlock a short time later, looking gloomy indeed as he turned of the television.

Molly, who he been half-watching, half-sleeping, yawned. "Can we go back to bed now?"

"I suppose so," he husband grumbled. "You have to be at work in a few hours anyway."

"Please tell me you aren't going to mope around the house all day because of this."

Sherlock gave his wife a long, considering look. "I can think of a few ways you can cheer me up."

Molly could see that gleam in his eye and giggled. "Ate you actually going to allow me to get back to sleep before I need to get up for work?"

"Hmmm," responded her husband with a wicked grin. "Probably not. You may just have to call in sick. Isn't your morning sickness still bothering you?"

"You know that went a way a couple weeks ago. I feel fine."

"No." He shook his head stubbornly. "I think you are sick and need the day off."

"Sherlock Holmes, I am not going to pretend to be ill, just to get the day off!"

"Your choice. I guess you will just be tired at work, then."

Ignoring her protests, Sherlock picked her up, blanket and all, and carried her back to the bedroom. He deposited her on the bed, leaned over her and said in his rich baritone she could never resist, "So, Mrs. Holmes, how much sleep do you really need?" Without waiting for an answer he began to kiss her, long, sensual ones that made her toes curl and her stomach flutter. Her fingers tousled his curls, and she surrendered to his will, as she always did. Her husband was just too damned hot.

Sleep was highly overrated anyway.

 **Author's note:** This little one-shot was inspired by my brother in Australia informing me he had won tickets to the Ashes Test Match in Adelaide this past weekend. I never get to watch cricket anymore, living in America, but I used to enjoy watching it, especially with my dad who was a big cricket fan.

So I thought how funny it would be if Sherlock was a closet sports (well cricket) enthusiast. Crazy thought, maybe. But I had fun writing it! And yes, as usual, this obe-shot fits into"my" Sherlock world main story.

Hope you enjoy it and please review with your thoughts.

BTW, the facts of the match are accurate. It just finished a few hours ago, from what I read, so I wrote this really fast because I wanted it to be accurate tine-wise.

Sorry English readers, but I'm still an Aussie at heart and have to root for my home team. Go Aussies!


End file.
